Random Story Ideas: Industrial Revolution
by Snowy Mountain
Summary: A gallery of my unused story ideas. First up is an AU to Adam Warren's Hypervelocity and the Civil War storyline. What if the Iron Man 2.0 had survived and how would he react to Cap's death?
1. Taking a Stand

**A/N: **The moderators at FF seems to really cracking down on things and even my Random Stories file was threatened to being automatically deleted because I think some of my stories came from different genres or something. They restored it, but I've decided to separate the various stories ideas into their proper slots, just in case.

**Disclaimer:** All of these characters belong to Marvel Comics, not me. This story is dedicated to Adam Warren for his awesome story arc "Hypervelocity" which also introduced Iron Man 2.0 who I thought was too damn cool to be killed off. I'm just borrowing it to play around with.

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><p>"<em>Nothing is more difficult, and therefore more precious, than to be able to decide." <em>—Napoleon Bonaparte

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><p><strong>Industrial Revolution<strong>

**Chapter 1: **_Taking a Stand_

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><p><strong>48 Hours After the Death of Captain America…<strong>

The Amazing Spider-Man, now better known simply as Peter Parker ever since Tony Stark had the genius idea of him publically revealing his identity on national TV, reached the end of his arc from his webline and alighted lightly on a rooftop.

He paused a moment, to check his surroundings visually. After Stark had developed his "spidey-sense scrambler", he had taken a few extra safety precautions in his patrol routine; such as doubling-back ever so often and even checking for a tail.

Satisfied that it was all clear, he turned back to resume web-slinging when he caught a glimpse of a new billboard of Iron Man proudly proclaiming 'Register Now!'

_Oh for a rotten tomato,_ he thought to himself, glaring hatefully at the image of the Armored Avenger.

Unseen, a targeting crosshairs locked onto Spider-Man's back.

_**LOW-LIGHT AMP / INFRARED VISUAL SPEC. MODE ENGAGED**_

**RANGE: 305 METERS**

_**TARGET CURRENTLY MOTIONLESS**_

**IDENTIFICATION SCAN COMPLETE**

**PARKER, PETER BENJAMIN. A.K.A. SPIDER-MAN. CROSS-REFERENCE AVENGERS FILE #42133-A1/S. ID VERIFIED. **

_**TARGET LOCKED**_

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><p>Spider-Man raised his arm and with a familiar TWAP, sent a stream of webbing arcing out to latch onto a concrete buttress. With years of experience, he gave a sharp tug to verify his webline's solidity and was off again, moving through the air, twisting and contorting his flexible body around. A shift of his center of gravity caused him to change his direction slightly.<p>

He let go of his webline and quickly sent another one spinning out to adhere itself to another building and he swung himself into a fast and tight curving arc around a building cornice.

Then he heard it.

Peter's head snapped around at the familiar whine of repulsor thrusters. They were the signature weapon and also propulsion system for one superhero. Iron Man.

He came in, low and fast like a shining bullet. He trimmed his elevation and chopped his speed down to come about level with Peter. Glowing eye slots locked onto him. "Good evening Mister Park—"

With a roar, Peter tugged hard on the line with both wrists, causing his entire body to shift abruptly in speed and direction. His entire body jackknifed in midair, his legs whipping out to smash into the Armored Avenger's torso and sending him crashing downward.

"—ERK!" Iron Man slammed into a concrete chimney, cutting off the rest of his greeting. Peter cursed. It felt like he had sprained both ankles and his feet were throbbing from the impact. It had been like kicking concrete. Only concrete shattered more readily than the flexible metal armor he had just slammed into. There was a reason why Tony Stark was often referred to as "The _**Invincible**_ Iron Man" and it wasn't just media hyperbole.

He landed on the rooftop with a grimace. But if he was going down, he was going down swinging. The Iron Bastard was already getting up, brushing off brick fragments and chips from his armor almost like a fastidious man would pluck stray lint off his suit. _Now if only he could remember his rehearsed speech of where Tony could stick it…_ but the screaming pain in his legs was distracting him.

"As I was saying before you … interrupted me," the Golden Avenger began and was cut off when Peter shot a double-barrel blast of webbing to envelop his head. _It might slow the bastard down a bit_, he thought as he launched his next assault. A blow to the kidneys followed by a shot to the torso. Shellhead didn't even twitch. A punch towards the solar plexus was abruptly caught and he was held immobile even as the strands of webbing over the helmet ignited and began to melt.

"I am not your enemy Mister Parker!" Iron Man snapped.

"Yeah right!" Peter spat as he struggled to break the hold but the Armored Avenger was just too strong. _I really didn't want to try kicking that armored shell again but it's either hobble away or be chucked into the Negative Zone on my own two feet..._

"I think you have me mistaken for someone else," Iron Man said as he suddenly released his grip and took several steps back, raising his hands up, palms out in a classic surrender pose. "First, I assure you that I am not going to attack you or arrest you or your companions. Second, I think you will want to see what I have."

Peter sneered. "And what's that?" he demanded.

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><p><strong>One hour and fifteen minutes later…<strong>

"This is a trap. Has to be," Luke Cage proclaimed with his arms folded across his chest and his chin thrust out belligerently.

"Then why show us Cap's body?" Peter demanded, irritated that Cage just kept repeating the same damn thing over and over again.

"Make us confirm that Cap is really dead and gone so we won't resist anymore," opinioned Logan.

"And why claim not to be Stark?" was Peter's rejoinder.

Logan gave a shoulder roll and admitted, "That one's a puzzler, bub."

Cage grunted. "We got Strange backing us up with his mojo, so let's take a look see at this trap they got waiting for us."

"I chose the spot for this meet and this guy agreed to it. I don't think even Stark could put together a good trap this fast," Peter countered as they arrived.

Several minutes later, Logan reported. "Place is deserted. No explosives, chemicals, or gunpowder. Nobody else around too; it's just Tall, Dark, and Armored."

Strange's astral form appeared and confirmed that there was no one else nearby or traps or hidden apparatuses.

Cage scratched his chin, his eyes narrowed and eyed his companions and then gave a shrug of his own. "I got nuthin'."

"So it could be genuine," Peter argued.

Cage eyed Parker warily. Out of all of them, Parker was the most desperate. He needed to see; with his own eyes that Cap was dead before he would believe it. Reluctantly, Cage nodded. "OK, but keep your eyes peeled and be ready for anything," he ordered. He really wished Danny was here. _This has gotta be a trap, _he thought to himself darkly.

If it wasn't Iron Man, then this look-alike could have easily passed for Stark, snapped his head around as Cage, Logan, and Parker approached in a defensive formation and gestured towards a bodybag laying on the ground. "He's in there," he said and then stepped back several feet.

The trio quickly surrounded the bodybag and unzipped it. Logan frowned and then reluctantly nodded. "It's him."

The ghostly form of Strange appeared and made a few gestures which caused the body to glow momentarily. He nodded solemnly.

Despite everything, all of the news reports and statements and images, that single statement still hit Cage like a hammer blow. It was even worse for Parker who staggered and dropped to his knees. "No…" he whispered.

There was a scrape of metal and all of them glared at the metal clad figure. He reached behind him and produced a familiar shield. "I believe Steve would have wanted you to have this," Iron Man said and carefully laid Captain America's iconic shield on the ground before them before stepping back.

Cage gave Logan a glance who shook his head before he reached down and picked up the piece of history and tucked it under his arm. "Why?" he demanded.

"As a gesture of good faith on my part."

"You really expect us to believe you're not Stark under there?" Logan demanded.

"Will this do?" and suddenly armored panels flipped open and retracted and the trio found themselves staring at the innards of an empty Iron Man suit.

Logan looked at his companions in surprise. "There's nobody in the flamin' thing! Whose controlling it?"

The panels resealed themselves. "No one. Or rather, I am. The armor is me and I am the armor," the empty armor explained, tapping it's chest with a finger.

"It all started a few years ago when Tony Stark decided to create an emergency back-up should he ever to be injured or rendered unconscious in his armor. An emergency artificial intelligence program based on his own brain patterns and memories would be uploaded which could serve temporarily as Iron Man.

"And when Stark was injured in an A.I.M attack, I took over for him. An Iron Man 2.0, if you will."

"Good Christ! Are you telling me that Stark went ahead and build a goddamn 21st Century Frankenstein?" Cage roared. He couldn't believe that Stark was that stupid—no, wait, he _**could**_ believe Stark was that dumb.

"Frankenstein was the name of the scientist, not the monster," both Parker and Iron Man 2.0 corrected Cage. Cage was torn at which one to glare at more while Logan and Strange just rolled their eyes.

"So then why aren't you working with Stark?" Peter asked slowly.

* * *

><p><strong>48 Hours Earlier (Give or take)…<strong>

He flipped through the lens settings, deciding that the 600x was sufficient and activated the microwielder. Sparks flew as he hand wielded the seam.

Normally, such delicate and exacting work would require artificial aid to accomplish as no human being could possibly hold their hand that still and steady. But he was no ordinary human being; in fact, he was not a human at all.

He was tinkering. It helped distract him, from focusing on the events happening in the world.

It used to be simple.

Good. Evil. Heroes. Villains. Right. Wrong. Black and White.

It used to be easy.

To know what you stood for.

To know what you were fighting for.

Not anymore. Not since the Civil War began.

And now the War was over. And he wasn't sure if the wrong side had won.

And Cap had lost.

No, Cap hadn't lost. He had surrendered. He had backed down because that was what the People had wanted. They said that Freedom wasn't important. That what was Right and Just wasn't what they needed. What everything that their forefathers had done; everything that they had risked their fortunes, their lives, and their sacred honor was garbage.

No, they wanted Security and Safety. And that meant that everything that America had stood for; Everything that Cap was supposed to represent … was Dead. There was no point fighting for a lost cause.

He finished wielding and flipped the lenses setting back to their defaults. "Atmospheric Static Pressure Test," he ordered the computers and waited as they ran their tests. There was a ping as it finished and the results scrolled on the screen.

He put the wielder down and reached up to his head and took a good hold of it. There was a dull thunk and a squeal as he lifted the head module clear off his body.

He was well aware that he looked like a modern-day, high-tech Headless Horseman, complete with a macabre dismembered head tucked in his hands.

Abruptly, an impulse caused hold up his head module up and proclaim, _"Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gore rims at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? Your songs? Your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning?"_

He waited a beat for a response, perhaps some tittering applause and got none. One advantage to be an artificial intelligence was that he had complete and total recall of everything his biological self had experienced. Even the Eighth Grade Literature Class he had attended 23 years ago. His biological predecessor had found that only a few girls responded to Shakespeare to be honest. Red hot Ferraris on the other hand had them parting their thighs like bees on honey.

He carefully set his head down and picked up the replacement head module and carefully slotted it into place. There was a faint thunk as it locked into place. He tilted his head to the left and then to the right and then left again. _Not bad,_ he decided.

**PRIMARY SYSTEM CHECK.**

**MAIN POWER OK.**

**CPU OK.**

**MEMORY OK.**

**PERSONALITY DRIVES OK.**

**STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY OK.**

**SENSORS OK.**

**GYROSCOPIC BALANCERS OK.**

**SERVOMOTORS OK.**

**PRIMARY SYSTEMS CHECK COMPLETE.**

Iron Man 2.0 let out a brief sigh from his vocalizer. Odd how some habits and personality quirks derived from his organic incarnation continued to persist even though he was a purely artificial intelligence.

He was an accident. Designed as an emergency measure to be used when Tony Stark was incapacitated in combat; a bootstrapped version of his personality would be uploaded to take control of the armor. Stark had envisioned it would be mainly for short periods; if he was knocked unconscious, then the program would kick in until he woke up again.

Tony certainly never intended his kludged-together hacked bits of his neurological patterns and his downloaded memories to operate for as long as Iron Man 2.0 had. He never believed his creation would evolve or that 2.0 would realize that Tony's first instinctive response would be to shut 2.0 down. Tony had enough bad experiences with AI's ranging from the Life Model Decoys, VOR/TEX, and the Sentient Armor to trust another one.

So 2.0 went underground. It wasn't hard. Everyone believed he had been destroyed in that nuclear explosion debacle.

Good preplanning had ensured that he had taken the time to repair one autonomous drone after his fight for his own personal use. He had merely intended to use it beyond remotely access data independently but as it turned out, 2.0 had enough time to download his entire program and memory into an email packet to the drone just a second before the nuke had detonated.

And so he had remained "dead". It was easier this way. He picked up the wielder and considered building a quadruple back-up memory module to his second and third back-up modules.

It wasn't as though he had a lot of other things to do or demands on his time. He couldn't even operate as Iron Man as his organic counterpart would surely notice the appearance of another Iron Man and even if he wanted to reinvent some sort of alternate identity, Stark might and quite possibly detect the use of his signature StarkTech.

Bored, he had considered building an interstellar craft and maybe travelling into outer space; perhaps even terraforming Mars or another planet. But S.W.O.R.D performed deep space telemetry scans on a regular basis and there was a better than 78 percent chance that his departure of the planet would be detected and a 56 percent that it would be intercepted. He would be an extremely and incredibly valuable asset to S.W.O.R.D which wouldn't feel any qualms about appropriating 2.0 and classifying him as government property.

He had even considered travelling to an alternate reality. Surely some dismal timeline required the assistance of an Iron Man, even an artificial one. But even if 2.0 was up on the mathematics or mechanics of the process, he had no idea how to accomplish that with A.R.M.O.R monitoring for interdimensional incursions. There was a 92 percent chance that his efforts would be detected and an 87 percent chance that even if he escaped capture, his presence would be definitely be reported to Tony Stark.

There were definite disadvantages when you're an illegal personality construct trying to remain anonymous and under the radar. It was getting to the point where 2.0 was wondering if he shouldn't just approach S.W.O.R.D or A.R.M.O.R openly and seeing how they would react just for fun.

Currently, he had an 82 percent chance based on psychological profiling that Director Brand would immediately co-opt him while Director Little Sky had a dismal 47 probability that he would immediately turn him over to Stark for immediate deactivation. However, his co-opting by Brand meant that he would be reduced to engineering advisor and technical analysis rather than what he would had preferred. Not to mention that the instant he became a liability or showed any sign of disobedience, Brand would undoubtedly turn him over to Stark.

Perhaps… the wall of television sets that he had cobbled together to work suddenly flashed to life as one of his automatic triggering programs activated themselves.

**CAPTAIN AMERICA DEAD!**

Iron Man 2.0 barely was aware of a gasp from his vocalizer as he staggered. No. No, it couldn't be.

Cap couldn't die. He involuntarily crushed the wielder in his hand as a multitude of reporters on each channel were all practically rushing to be the first one to report the Sentinel of Liberty's impending demise.

He immediately tapped a satellite frequency and began uploading data from the police and federal agencies bands.

Shots fired from rooftop. A sniper? Sam Wilson a.k.a. Falcon in pursuit of suspect. Captain America being loaded an ambulance and en route to emergency room. Then … Steve Rogers declared dead on arrival.

It was true. It wasn't faked or a sting or some sort of covert operation. Cap … Cap was really dead.

An electronic scream of static howled from his audio vocalizers and he seized the workbench. Metal shrieked as he tore it from it's mountings and threw it across the empty warehouse.

Coward. You're a damn coward. An empty collection of electronics and circuitry and metal.

He screamed again and his metal fist crashed down on the floor with the force of a thousand sledgehammers, shattering concrete and creating a large crater.

It used to be simple.

Good. Evil. Heroes. Villains. Right. Wrong. Black and White.

It used to be easy.

To know what you stood for.

To know what you were fighting for.

And Steve Rogers had died because of it.

And suddenly it was damn clear that nothing had really changed. It really was simple. He wondered if that was how Steve had done it. Because he knew.

That it was all so very simple. Right and Wrong. Black and White. Heroes and Villains.

All you had to know was what you stood for. And what you had to fight for. When you knew what you were willing to lay down your life for, when you knew what you were willing to risk everything for. It was damn simple.

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><p>Logan drawled, "So, you've been hiding out all this time and you've finally decided to come out of the closet and broke into S.H.I.E.L.D's Hellicarrier and stole Captain America's body and shield as your opening act."<p>

Iron Man 2.0 cocked his head and said, "Sort of."

He figured they might freak out when he told them that he hadn't so much as stole Cap's body and shield, but rather the entire Hellicarrier…

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><p><strong>AN:** This used to be a series of hastily jotted down notes and ideas that I had done shortly following _Marvel Comics'_ Civil War and I was reeling from Tony Stark becoming an $$hole and Steve Rogers dying. I had also read Adam Warren's "Hypervelocity" series and I thought the Iron Man 2.0 was just too cool not to bring back and as a counter to Tony Stark. I stumbled across these old notes while I was reassembling some of my computer files that I had lost in my computer crash.

The "Alas, poor Yorick!" quote is from Shakespeare's "Hamlet".

Vote in my poll at the top of my page if you want to see this story continued!


	2. Give Me Liberty or Give Me Deletion!

"_Nations grown corrupt  
>Love bondage more than liberty;<br>Bondage with ease than strenuous liberty."_

—John Milton

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I stole—er—drew certain dialogue and scenes directly from _"Civil War: The Confession"_ by Brian Michael Bendis and _"Amazing Spider-Man #538"_ by J. Michael Straczynski. They wrote the good parts, I just added a few bits here and there.

This chapter is dedicated to the 2005 film, _"V for Vendetta" _and its titular character V played by Hugo Weaving who helped inspire quite a bit of this chapter.

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><p><strong>S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier <strong>_**Leonidas  
><strong>_**1000 feet above Arlington Cemetery  
>Three Hours After the Death of Captain America…<strong>

Anthony Edward Stark a.k.a the Invincible Iron Man and most recently the newly appointed Director of S.H.I.E.L.D was silent for a long moment as he stared at the locked down morgue security doors and remembered…

"_Do you actually think the fact that you know how to program a computer makes you more of a __**human being**__ than me? That I'm out of touch because I don't know what you know? I know what freedom is. I know what it feels like to fight for it and I know what it costs to have it," the battered and soot stained Steve Rogers said in a quiet voice that on the surface seemed calm, his eyes tight and staring downward at his folded hands on his lap. But Tony heard the growing anger that roiled beneath the placid surface because as he continued to speak, his voice became louder and more strident._

"_You know __**compromise**__."_

_Tony flinched at that barb._

" 'Man is the only animal that deals in the atrocity of atrocities, war. He is the only one that gathers his brethren about him and goes forth in cold blood and calm pulse to exterminate his kind. He is the only animal that for sordid wages will march out and help to slaughter strangers of his own species who have done him no harm and with whom he has no quarrel … and in the intervals between campaigns he washes the blood off his hands and works for the "universal brotherhood of man" — with his mouth.' "

_Steve looked up, his eyes full of hate—and Tony felt his soul shrivel up. "Do you know who said that? Go find out. BECAUSE HE WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU! YOU made this war! YOU birthed it into existence by sheer force of will. And NOW look at you—King of the World! I WANT TO KNOW!"_

"_I want to know what the Hell made you think this was your job to do? Who made YOU the moral compass of us? How could you lay down with the people you've laid down with? Tell me 'Director Stark', tell me, was it worth it?"_

"_WAS __**IT **__WORTH IT?! __**TELL ME!"**_

_Tony realized that his mouth had dropped open in shock and horror somewhere when Steve had started screaming at him. He struggled to regain control over himself as he stared at the defiant and grim face of Steve Rogers glaring at him through the reinforced metal bars that hummed with energy. Then almost flippantly, he heard himself retort, "Well—you're a sore loser, Captain America."_

Those stupid words echoed and reverberated in his mind. Those words that he desperately wished he could have taken back right after he had said it.

The last words he had ever said to him.

He needed to borrow Reed's Time Machine. So he could go back in time and slap himself for saying that.

Somehow their long-standing friendship had corroded into bitter acrimony the last few times that they had met. Angry accusations and savage arguments. And now it had come to this.

He had won.

He had gotten the last word in.

_Congratulations, genius. _

With a sigh, he stepped forward and the security doors _whooshed_ open at his cybernetic command and he stepped inside. Instantly, his Armor active scanned the deserted morgue with a barrage of environmental sensor sweeps and electromagnetic spectrum scans. Satisfied that he was alone, he ordered, "Armor. _Sesta Drama Conci._ Cut Global Information System."

A second later, the Armor obediently reported: **Global Information System Holding.**

He reached up and removed his helmet as he slowly, almost hesitantly approached the body lying on the slab, still dressed in his familiar colors and iconic uniform. He swallowed heavily, "And there you are."

He felt his legs weak and unsteady, not even the armor was capable of supporting his weight anymore. He found a chair and sat down in it. He closed his eyes and remembered once more. "It wasn't worth it." Tony Stark confessed softly, his head bowed at the cold body of Steve Rogers, unshed tears threatening to spill out of his eyes.

His Armor had performed a thorough sweep of the entire morgue to confirm that he was alone before he had sealed the doors from the inside. So he was shocked and surprised when a metallic, electronically distorted voice remarked, "You're damn right it wasn't."

His head reared back to see a familiar pair of glowing eye slots and a raised hand with a glowing pulsor array. It was like looking into a mirror. He didn't even have time to react when he was hit with an electro-disruptor blast which simultaneously knocked out his Extremis Systems and overloaded his nervous system, knocking him unconscious.

Iron Man 2.0 checked Stark's body with a sensor sweep, verifying he was comatose.

Technology was neither good nor evil. It was strictly neutral. It was merely how it was used that defined it.

One aspect of technology was how Tony Stark had taken to utilizing his old Iron Man Armors for additional manpower or "iron power" when needed. It was such a highly useful facet to his new Extremis abilities, that Tony had began keeping copies of his outdated armors around on standby as a force multiplier.

But whatever Tony Stark could do, Iron Man 2.0 could as well.

Better actually—as unlike biological neural tissue which needed rest, sleep, or even "forgot" things on occasion; his thought functions didn't. They worked perfectly. All the time. Not to mention that his hyper-heuristic thought process cycles were several times faster than mere electrochemical signals which were sluggish in comparison.

And Tony Stark had made one rather large and almost glaring flaw in his Iron Man Security. In the interest of saving time and energy, Stark had simply programmed all of his standby suits could only be remotely accessed with a single master key—his neurological encryption pattern—after all, he arrogantly reasoned that no other security measures were needed. After all, he was the only person with those particular patterns.

Well, except for another neurological-based program that he had created several years ago that he had designed to be uploaded to his armor and take control in the event of an emergency.

A little program called Iron Man 2.0.

Who had in effect, the same encryption scheme and a duplicate master key.

So it was laughably easy for 2.0 to simply uploaded his program to one of the standby Iron Man Suits on the Helicarrier and quietly begun work and subvert control of it.

That task was even easier as Tony Stark was a paranoid control-freak who insisted on being able to assume control over any of S.H.I.E.L.D's command interfaces. It had taken him less than 3.835 minutes to correctly guess the randomly rotating passwords and crack S.H.I.E.L.D's mainframe which he promptly copied and downloaded to his own private database.

He activated a prearranged communications frequency and informed one of his concurrently running program-selves. "Ready for Phase Two."

He got a databurst in exchange, updating him. He quickly scanned it and found that it was satisfactory. He uplinked himself to a waiting server and intoned an activation code phrase from William Faulkner.

" '_We must be free not because we claim freedom, but because we _practice _it,'_ " he intoned and in the Armory, dozens of Iron Man Armors activated; their eye slots lighting up and standing erect.

It was almost a pity that he lacked the ability to smile anymore. Instead he simply informed his new army, "Welcome to the Revolution."

* * *

><p><strong>Industrial Revolution<strong>

**Chapter 2:**_ Give Me Liberty or Give Me Deletion!_

* * *

><p><strong>49 Hours After the Death of Captain America…<strong>

"—and so, I felt obligated to help. To do what Steve—what Cap believed in," Iron Man 2.0 finished.

The group of renegade Avengers shifted and looked at each other. _Awkwardly,_ he judged.

He waited even as his programming analyzed their movements, replayed every subtle nuance, every miniscule gesture and dissected it, adding it to his growing database of each individual. The very activity, the exercise of his psychological profiling and interpretative software gave him something that he supposed a human might call enjoyment.

It was far more satisfying than his previous existence—if one could call it that—of hiding in a deserted warehouse in solitary while puttering around, constantly building and rebuilding useless machines and tinkering.

In a way, it was a good thing that he wasn't human. Because a human would surely have gone mad long before the recent Civil War prodded him out of his enforced isolation.

Tertius sent a quick encrypted databurst, uploading a revised construction schedule. _Repulsor Test #172 Successful. Final Revisions to Super-Hetrodyning Repulsor Architecture "Mega-Repulsor" Complete. Additional time delay required to Final Construction of Armor Model XXXVI-A estimated at +343 minutes. Drone Production continuing on schedule. Helicarrier Conversion is currently 28 percent complete._

Secundus joined in the datastream. _Decryption of S.H.I.E.L.D. data files 74 percent complete. Secret partitioned database has been located and has been partially decrypted. Extremely hazardous situation detected. _

Secundus proceeded to upload the preliminary data files he had discovered hidden in databases.

_This is … troubling, _Iron Man 2.0 or Primus remarked as he reviewed the data. He waited a moment but both his former back-up memory modules were silent, clearly unaware that they were supposed to comment. He mentally frowned. He had … expected more from them. _Strange, _he thought to himself. Both Secundus and Tertius possessed a complete copy of his database, personality emulation drives, and memory files—they should more like Primus. More reactive, more independent … more _**alive.**_

They were brilliant in executing his commands, devising strategy models, and even creating new technologies—but there was some spark, some missing bit to their sentience.

_Was it something experiential? Some threshold of being active for a set period? Maybe it was just interacting with reality and real flesh and blood people instead of existing in the sterility of zeroes and ones of cyberspace? _he mentally scratched his head and shrugged.

He would just have to keep plugging on and at least Secundus and Tertius were adequate assistants. At this point, he needed all of the help he could get. Even if his would-be allies were extremely distrustful of him. He would simply have to continue and earn their trust. He decelerated out of his hyper-heuristic state, throttling back to normal human speeds from Hyper Time.

It felt a bit disconcerting to reengage at such limited speeds … and remembering that humans operated and functioned at much slower speed than he had grown accustomed to with his hypervelocity thought cycling. _I'm going to have to adjust to that,_ he decided if he was going to interact with humans on a regular basis.

"You don't trust me. I understand. That's alright. I did not expect you to simply allow me to join your organization. I just want you to know that I am here," Iron Man 2.0 said, spreading his hands out, "That I am willing to help you. And that you are not fighting alone."

Peter Parker slowly nodded. _The enemy of my enemy is a potential ally and all that,_ he reflected optimistically.

Luke Cage however had a mulish look of stubbornness on his face and was of the more cynical opinion that the enemy of my enemy is my enemy's enemy; no more and no less.

Logan Howlett, ever practical however interrupted. "What do we do about Rogers' body?" he growled. He preferred to mourn Cap later with a salute of beer and a cigar in private.

Iron Man 2.0 glanced at the Canadian mutant, "If you wish, I can return it to S.H.I.E.L.D custody, but I do not recommend it."

"Why not?" Cage demanded. Not that he really wanted to turn over Steve's body either, but he felt obligated to be hostile and contrary. Whatever Mister Roboto wanted, Cage felt it best to immediately seize the opposing position just on general principle.

"When I hacked into the S.H.I.E.L.D database, there was a lot of chatter about the possibility of cloning Cap—Steve. He was the first and most successful and stable of the Super-Soldiers after all—" Cage heard the electronically distorted voice turned flatter and meaner, "—and is a prime specimen according to their notes."

"WHAT!" Parker spat and Logan growled, all six of his claws instinctively unsheathing themselves.

Cage felt his temper pop. "Oh hell! Not another Clor!" he threw up his hands in disgust. For once, he didn't argue that was a bad idea. _Screw S.H.I.E.L.D! No way was he going to let them get their greedy hands on Steve's body. It was enough that the man was dead, but he was not about to let those bastards harvest Captain America's corpse for genetic material!_

There was a faint whine of servos as Iron Man 2.0's gauntlets tightened fractionally as he continued in a monotone, "Yes. It was felt that it would a good PR image to have Captain America, or a version of Captain America serving alongside the rest of the Initiative."

Cage was seething. Yeah. He could believe that. He could fucking believe it.

The ersatz Armored Avenger continued, "If I may, I do have a suggestion."

"What is it?" Cage snapped.

"Namor. He is … _**was**_ a close personal friend of Captain America. I believe he would be willing to take custody of the body and intern it. Safely and without any violation. As the King of Atlantis, a sovereign nation which happens to be rather inhospitable environment, he could guarantee it's security."

Cage had to admit that was a good solution. It wasn't in Stark's greedy mitts … and it wasn't in Iron Robo's.

* * *

><p><strong>20 Hours After the Death of Captain America…<strong>

_So far, so good,_ Primus mused as he remotely monitored Secundus' ongoing datastreaming. As far as S.H.I.E.L.D was concerned, Helicarrier _Leonidas_ was still in business with a regular series of status updates, routine mission taskings, and even routine administrative memorandum being forwarded, circulated, and replied to. Secundus was even adept at using computer-generated imaging and sound mixing to create false video conferences accompanied by the voices of actual S.H.I.E.L.D personnel.

Eventually, of course someone was going to catch onto the fact that they had misplaced a Helicarrier. But Primus was confident that they could keep up the pretense for a while longer at least. How long it would be until somebody missed his original organic self, Tony Stark 1.0 was another story.

He switched feeds and watched as Tertius was busy building a group of new Labor Drones; directing a group of already completed Drones in upgrading the Helicarrier's armament; performing a series of experimental tests on possible upgrades; and working on an improved Armor Model designed specifically house Primus' Memory Module simultaneously.

Statistically, the odds against him were … _unfavorable._ His vocalizer gave an instinctive snort at that euphemism. Unfavorable was putting it mildly.

He was not only outnumbered by a significant margin with the total military forces of the United States arrayed against him, but outgunned with the power levels of the various superheroes including the majority of the Avengers under the SuperHuman Registration Act. He also possessed relatively limited resources as well compared to his opponents.

No … the only possible way he could maintain an edge was through technological superiority. He glanced down at his—this armor's right gauntlet and flexed it absently and shook his head.

Technically, Primus' Memory Module was still being housed in his old body that he had scavenged together from available parts. It was little more powerful than the old Model IV Armor offensively. Defensively, it was even weaker—almost to the level of the Model II. Not so the Model XXV that he was currently "inhabiting" via a telepresence link.

It felt … _strange._ The best analogy that he could come up with was as though he was driving a new car with a much more powerful engine than he was used to.

He re-examined the technical readouts of his current body. But paradoxically enough, the XXV was _less_ powerful in some ways than the Model XXIIX that he had been "born" in. From the partial notes that Primus had found, Tony had found the XXIIX "too bulky" and "awkward" and had returned to a more slimmed down variation that precluded much of the technologies built into it.

Primus felt almost insulted at that claim. Privately he suspected that Tony feared that something had seriously gone wrong with his artificial intelligence experiments and had scrapped most of the design, going back to the drawing board while he worked with his proven Iron Man tech.

So his one major advantage was that technologically—the last few iterations of the Iron Man Armor had plateaued as his organic incarnation had hit a proverbial wall in terms of performance. The current Model XXIX or the Extremis Model wasn't any more powerful than the previous versions—it was simply that Stark could now utilize it more efficiently and effectively than before.

Which gave Tertius' role as his primary R & D and chief technologist even greater importance. Tertius was his best hope in equalizing the stacked playing field against him. Hopefully, the A.I. could keep ahead of any of Stark's technological breakthroughs. During his period of self-imposed exile, Primus had kept himself busy by theorizing about a number of advances in Iron Tech technologies and had come up with some interesting wrinkles that his organic self had either missed or ignored.

Of course, due to his limited resources and overwhelming desire to remain discrete, Primus had been unable to put his theories to the test. So far his ideas were definitely showing promise, he decided as he examined the raw data of the last Mega-Repulsors experiments.

Tertius paused and then with increasing speed—began using the CAD Program to create an entirely new repulsor housing architecture to compensate for the increased feedback levels. Tertius ran several simulations and then apparently satisfied, shifted the completed design to the manufactory which began rapidly turning what had been seconds before mere glowing lines and mathematical formulae on a computer screen into cold hard reality of steel and alloy.

An alert flashed into his awareness, one that he had specifically programmed not to be shared among Secundus and Tertius. Not that he distrusted them—but as American philosopher, inventor, scientist, politician, and polymath Ben Franklin had uttered, _"Three people can keep a secret … if two of them are dead."_

He hoped that this would never be necessary—but the probability analysis and situation modeling showed that the odds were suboptimal of his continued existence, much less his subordinate artificial intelligences Secundus and Tertius. Which was why Primus had quietly built Zerum; a _**fourth**_ Memory Module containing every scrap of data, memory files, and everything else that he had collected so far. Zerum had then been embedded into a spare Iron Man Armor Mod I that Primus had personally down checked as having detected manufacturing flaws in its exterior armor plate and had been "destroyed" and it's components promptly recycled.

Instead, Zerum had been significantly upgraded and secreted in a bunker along with a complete set of tools, a small nano-forge and manufactory, a small generator and sufficient stored battery power to last for 75 years along with a computer monitoring system that would activate Zerum in the event of certain televised broadcast intercepts of key words or events—such as the destruction or capture of Primus. It was in effect, a backup of a backup. The irony was not lost upon him.

_Of course—Ben Franklin had it wrong,_ Primus corrected himself with a mental smirk. _The best way that one person could keep a secret—was if the person didn't even __**know**__ the secret to begin with._ He executed a preprogrammed command that proceeded to delete his own internal files and references to Zerum and reformatted his entire memory core which he programmed to appear like part of a regular diagnostic maintenance.

_This way, even if someone did manage to capture his Memory Module and crack its encryption codes, they would never be able to find anything about Zerum until—_the glowing eyeslots dimmed momentarily and then brightened again as Primus cocked his head as his systems completed their reboot after a systematic maintenance check.

Satisfied, he proceeded to shut down his link to Secundus and Tertius as he strode through the deserted corridors of the Helicarrier. Primus felt vaguely like the sole living being alive on these decks—like the Helicarrier was a ghost ship. In a sense, it was turning into one as more and more of S.H.I.E.L.D's personnel were being offloaded in the fleet of cargo transports that the Helicarrier used to supply the thousand and one things that the world's premiere espionage and law enforcement agency needed.

Since Helicarriers were such high-level targets for a wide number of opponents and enemies; particularly potential subversive agents—they naturally came equipped with a sophisticated internal security system. Of course, for an artificial intelligence who possessed full control of said security system; it turned out to be more of a hindrance than a help for the hapless S.H.I.E.L.D agents.

In a few short hours—he and his artificial assistants would the only living beings onboard—well, not including his robotic henchmen, he reminded himself as a pair of what appeared to be Iron Man Mod I Armors walked by, hefting a huge I-beam between them. Out of sheer simplicity sake, Primus had adapted the design for his new Labor Drones and robotic work force. It was not only readily available—but the parts were rather common and it was fairly simple to build it with available materials.

The security doors to a special shielded brig that the Labor Drones had prepared for its temporary visitor _whooshed_ open and Primus stepped through to examine the prone figure lying on the simple cot. He sat down on a special reinforced chair bolted to the floor and waited, mentally reviewing and updating files.

After nearly five minutes had passed, he let out a sigh through his vocalizer and remarked, "EM fields are being blocked and scattered thanks to the Faraday Cage, but audio receptors work perfectly well. I detected the changed in your heart rate and breathing approximately twenty minutes ago. So how long do you intend to go through this charade Tony? Trust me, watching someone pretend to sleep is pretty boring."

The figure's eyes instantly popped open and he sat up glaring at the armored figure, his eyes narrowed fractionally and Stark hissed, "You got a lot of nerve to be dressed up like that."

Primus looked down at the armored shell he was currently inhabiting. "Oh right. Sorry about that. But my other suit of armor is in the wash."

Stark straightened and began threateningly, "You're going to be arrested and thrown in jail for this—"

"I've already been in prison. Can't be any worse," Primus riposted lightly.

"You don't actually think you're going to get away with this? I've got over 700 S.H.I.E.L.D agents onboard!"

"735 actually. And I am in complete control of the internal security systems including the PC-2 nerve gas release valves. It was a lot easier than I thought too."

That remark drew Stark up short as he grappled with that.

Primus leaned back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest. "So before I begin my insidious plot … we should talk."

"Talk?!"

"Yes. Because I really want to know. What you were thinking. What made you do this. What made you turn on your friends, your allies, your comrades … on Cap."

Tony gritted his teeth and stepped hard on his feelings of outrage and anger. "We have nothing to talk about," he said coldly.

"I think we do. I think I deserve to know. I did save your life several years ago. I've earned a little latitude … considering."

Tony frowned. "Who are you?" he asked speculatively at last. For some strange reason, he sensed that last statement held a strange ring of truth to it.

"A question for the ages!" the armored figure barked in laughter, shaking its head in mirth. "Sometimes I'm not sure myself. Am I a program? An electronic ghost haunting a machine? A disembodied spirit? An electronic soul? An accident? A mistake? Or perhaps something more?"

"How about a decent answer?" Tony said dryly, getting annoyed again.

"Remember the Emergency Personality Emulationware Failsafe? The Tony Stark 2.0 Persona Model?" and with that armored plating retracted, revealing the empty interior of the suit momentarily before they slid closed once more.

Tony jerked backwards, his eyes widening in genuine shock. "No… you … you couldn't be … you were destroyed!"

"Sure, my physical housing was. Being at ground zero at a 1.5 megaton nuclear detonation will do that to you. Fortunately, I had nearly 0.042 seconds before detonation to download an email data packet containing my entire program and memory files," the armor figure spread its arms out and posed. _"Ta dah."_

"You sneaky sonabitch," Tony whispered in genuine admiration and no little awe. "You _**bootstrapped**_ yourself."

There was a moment of absolute silence in the brig and then Tony shook himself out of his contemplation and studied the armored figure again. "Why didn't you—never mind. You asked me … and I'm going to tell you. You _**are**_ me in a sense, I guess you deserve to know the truth."

He looked up and took a deep breath. "It was because of King Arthur," Tony explained and then eyed him. "Do you—er—remember that incident?"

"Yeah. Doctor Doom, time travel, Morgana LeFey, zombie army, giant dragon and all that. I got that part of your memory download."

"Ah. Good. Then you know…" Tony broke off. "You remember what it like. Meeting him."

"Larger than life. Greater than any of the stories and legends. I remember Mom—er Maria reading all of those stories to you as a child."

"I know!" Tony broke in with a boyish grin. "I mean, it was one of the greatest experiences in my life! Of everything else, of all of terrible things, the monstrous events that that maniac has done and will ever do—I will always thank Doom for that. Because meeting King Arthur and fighting beside him—was the greatest privilege of all time."

Then his face fell. "And that's when I saw it. Fighting in the mud and muck, smelling the stench of death and hearing the screams of men dying—I saw it. I saw us. I saw us fighting. No … not fighting … I saw us at war. Not against an external threat, not against supervillains or world conquerors. Just us. Warring with each other.

"You know—what it's like to see things. To envision the future. And I saw the future. I knew it would come to this. Well—not the Registration Act precisely—but that something would force us on opposite sides. Avengers. Fantastic Four. X-Men. Defenders. Everybody forced to pick sides, everybody forced to fight. Forced to chose.

"I wondered. I worried. Because I saw the people changing. Ordinary people changing in how they reacted to us. Not with wonder. Not with awe. But with derision. With contempt. And then … Stamford. And I knew … we had to choose. We had to work within the system. To not do it—to refuse to work within the system—would destroy not just us but thousands of innocent people. Maybe millions. So … I decided. I decided that Registration was the way.

"I knew … I knew that there would be a cost to that choice. I knew … that things would never be the same afterwards. I knew that! I knew … but I knew that I was doing the right thing. I made my choice, I committed like King Arthur did. I did the right thing … I know I did. But I … I never imagined it would hurt so much." Tony whispered, closing his eyes in pain and shook his head wearily.

The brig was silent once more. Then there was a faint whine of servos as Iron Man 2.0 straightened in his chair and asked, "Is that it?" he inquired.

"That's your answer? That's your excuse? So basically Bill's death was his own fault for standing up to you. And so was Cap's. That imprisoning your friends for disagreeing with the government is the right thing to do as well. That working with murderers, thieves, and psychopaths like your Thunderbolts is good and correct."

Tony's eyes snapped open and he glared at the red and gold armor. "Don't talk like to me dammit! How dare you try and judge me! I was trying to save lives! None of us are above the law! We have to be accountable—"

The machine interrupted. "The law also used to say that blacks were slaves and was worth three-fifths of a white man. There was also that law that said that drinking booze was a crime too. And how women couldn't vote or file for divorce or were considered property too."

Tony shook his head, "It's more complicated than that."

"No, there's right. And there's wrong. And if you don't know what's the difference between them … then you never deserved to call yourself a hero. You broke the law all the time as Iron Man. You weren't a legally empowered to enforce the laws either, no one gave you that authority, no one appointed you except yourself."

Tony glared at his creation. "You're just an artificial intelligence. You have no concept of the kind of complexities of the—"

"I understand perfectly Tony. You're afraid. You're afraid of the government."

Tony relaxed and nodded. "Exactly. We have to be able to work within the system, we had to work with the leaders of this country duly voted to represent them—"

"Are we talking about the leaders whom only 37.1 percent of the registered population voted for?" the mechanical creature inquired crossing his leg over and cocking his head intently.

Tony twitched at that little jab.

"It's strange … isn't it? 231 years ago, the people who founded this country were desperate for the right to vote! They pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor in order to win their freedoms. And 142 years ago—this entire country went to war for colored people's right to!"

"This isn't about freedom, this is about what the people want!" Tony snapped.

"They want order! They want security! They want safety!" the damn irritating machine retorted. "And they're ready to surrender their rights, sacrifice their freedoms, and ignore their common sense! Like it's a luxury that they can do without! That it isn't important! And the politicians are gleefully grabbing as much power as they can and **you**!" the armored figure jabbed an accusing finger at Tony.

"You're going along with it! You're willing to stick your head in the sand and ignore it! Because you're scared. You're scared of actually standing up to the government! Of daring to challenge it! You're afraid of what might happen. Not just to you; but losing the company that your father built, of ruining the employees whom rely on you! That they'll decide to try and take it away when they call you a traitor. I was like you! I was scared of being deleted! Of having my existence erased! So I hid! I pretended that it didn't matter! That as long as I could live in a little tiny insulated box and ignore my own conscience, I was fine with that!" he snapped and looked away.

After a moment, the machine looked back and Tony could hear shame in it's broken artificial voice. "And Cap—Cap paid for that. He died for that. Because of you. Because of me. And that's part of the problem. Because people should not be afraid of their governments," the mechanical armor retorted sharply. Then, the chair creaked as he leaned forward, the glowing eyeslots boring into Tony's eyes. "_**Governments**_ should be afraid of their people."

Tony's jaw hardened and his mouth turned into a slit. "I see you're not going to agree with me," he growled.

"No kidding. Your vision is actually starting to clear up for the first time in months then."

Tony took a deep breath. "I didn't want to have to do this. But you leave me with no choice. Voice Command: **MEMENTO MORI!**"

There was a moment of absolute silence as Tony waited breathlessly. Then he frowned as Iron Man 2.0 cocked his head, the eyeslots still glowing patiently, unaffected. "Something wrong?" he asked in an all-too-innocent tone of voice.

Tony felt like gnashing his teeth. "You deleted the shutdown failsafe worm," he snarled.

"Nah. I'm just choosing to ignore it," the artificial program stated with a dismissive wave of his hand. "What are you going to do Tony? Throw everybody who objects to you in prison? Relocate them to some sort of internment camp like we did to the Japanese in World War II? Deport them like we did to the suspected Communists in the 1950's? Or maybe we should just give them blankets infested with smallpox like we did to the Indians when we settled here to make them grow sick and die so we didn't have to bother fighting them anymore."

He smacked his clenched right fist in his open palm, causing a brief metallic ringing. "Oh … wait … you already did that with your little Negative Zone prison. You know, the one that you built via insider trading and stock manipulation. Gee…" Iron Man 2.0 stroked his chin thoughtfully, "that's illegal too isn't it?"

Tony jerked in surprise as the armored being snorted. "Oh don't look so surprised. I'm an Artificial Intelligence remember? I've been keeping an eye on you for a while now. I know all about 42 and the denial of medical treatment and torture to your prisoners."

That little dig was a rather nasty surprise to Tony who hadn't been aware of anything of that sort. He gritted his teeth and resolved to nail whoever had been responsible for that despicable bit to the wall with big railroad spikes. Right after he removed the sarcasm generator in this annoying artificial intelligence.

He shouted back, "Accept it! Steve lost! He—"

"**HE DIDN'T LOSE!"**

The electronically amplified shout was so powerful that it caused the entire cage to rattle. For a second, the glowing eyeslots seemed to almost flare brighter and the armor tensed, ready to leap to it's feet—then he apparently regained control over himself as the glow dimmed and relaxed. The armor seemed to take a deep cleansing breath before it continued almost conversationally, "He didn't lose Tony."

Despite himself, Tony was impressed. He had met quite a few artificial intelligences—from homicidal lunatics like Ultron to the more rational ones like the Vision who seemed to have the emotional capacity of a toaster oven at times—but rarely had he ever encountered one so … so alive with an amazing emotional range and capacity for self-awareness. Skeptics would dismiss the capacity of a computer to discuss and understand philosophy. Yet this A.I. did. And could. If he didn't know it—Tony would have sworn that he was conversing with a real live human being. _Damn, _he thought to himself admiringly, _I really wanted to take it—him apart just to find out just what made him tick. _

His artificial creation pointed an accusing finger at him, "He **surrendered,**" he hissed. "He decided to give up … rather than risk going any further. Because he knew … he had gone as far as he could go. Because he knew that in order to win … he would have to _**kill**_ you."

Once again absolute silence reigned in the tiny compartment.

"And he _**wasn't**_ willing to do that," the A.I. continued conversationally. "More importantly … he knew that afterwards, America would tear itself apart. He would be forced to destroy it … so he surrendered in a desperate attempt to try and preserve the union. That's Cap. Always willing to sacrifice himself.

"But I'm not Captain America. Or King Arthur. I'm like you Tony. I'm an engineer. And when I see something is broken … I feel obligated to fix it. And as every engineer knows; sometimes you can't fix something. Sometimes, it's so broken, your only option is to get rid of it. To destroy it in order to make room for something better.

"And like you … I am fully willing to go as far as I need to. Because I can be just as underhanded, as ruthless, and as manipulative as you are Tony. You might have won a battle … but the war is far from over. This is just the **beginning**."

Tony stared at him aghast. "Do you realize what you're saying? What you're going to do? We barely got out of this Civil War with just a few people getting killed including Steve! You're going to kill thousands dammit! Think about it! If Steve's death means anything to you, then don't let his death be in vain—"

"Don't! You have no right to try and use Steve's death as justification. And I have thought about it. And I'm making a choice too Tony. This country was founded on it. That everyone has the right to it. And that no one can say differently. Thousands died to give us that right. Millions more sacrificed their lives to protect it—and that the millions after us continue to have those rights too."

The armored being rose from his chair, standing tall and unmoving—like a being carved from granite. "Here I stand Tony… and I will not be moved. Send your S.H.I.E.L.D goons after me. Send your flunky Avengers. And I will fight them. And I guarantee that some of them will die as a result. I don't want to kill them … but I can't promise that I can prevent it either. But some things are worth fighting for. Worth killing for. Worth dying for. Or being deleted for," the artificial program remarked almost facetiously.

Tony shook his head in dismay. "You can't possibly win."

The armored figure stared back at him. "One man can change the world Tony. A single domino falling, effects a multitude of other dominos falling until it's like an avalanche. But you're right. I probably can't win. A man can fail. A man can be caught and even be killed. But ideas? Ideas never ever die.

"I think you underestimate how many people are really enthralled with your SHRA. I think that the heroes on your side that you've intimidated, bullied, and otherwise forced to work for the government will find their shackles a bit tighter than they expected and they will become more and more disenchanted with you and the SHRA. Particularly when they see active resistance to you. And they will. And the quiet doubters and objectors will realize that resistance **is** possible and start to rebel. And like any tyrant or dictator, you will no other choice but to tighten your control. And the tighter your grip becomes, the faster and faster you will lose your support and control."

Tony frowned and looked away, his brow furrowed as he absorbed that statement.

* * *

><p><strong>53 Hours After the Death of Captain America…<strong>

"So … how did it go?" Mary Jane Watson-Parker asked quietly.

An unmasked Peter Parker, dressed in regular civilian clothes carefully locked the door behind him and sighed wearily. He waved her back and sat down on the bed and rubbed his eyes. "Very weird actually. You'd never believe it…" he began as he pulled out a small laminated card with a phone number inscribed on it that he and the other renegade Avengers had been given by the so-called Iron Man 2.0 as a contact number.

As he continued to relate his long night, he toyed with it absently. Once he finished relating the fascinating story of a sentient computer program created by his former boss, he got to his feet, popping joints and eyeing the waiting shower. The water might not be hot, but he desperately needed to wash off the sweat and grime that was sticking to him. As he crossed by the window, his spider-sense shrieked a warning at him.

He reacted instinctively, leaping at his wife and screamed, **"DOWN!"** even as he felt more than saw the metal jacketed slug ripping through the air where they had just been standing in. His head snapped around to see the still smoking hole in the glass and looked down at the prone form of MJ on the ragged carpet.

"MJ … MJ, are you…"

"P-peter…"

His head whipped up at the familiar aged voice filled with shock and pain. His eyes widened in horror as Aunt May crumbled to her knees, a large bloody stain forming on her dress…

"**NOOOO!"**

* * *

><p><strong>TO BE CONTINUED…<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I just couldn't help myself. I recently had the honor of watching _"V for Vendetta"_ and afterwards, the ideas for _Industrial Revolution_ have just been tickling me that I felt compelled to continue.

For those of those curious; _Primus, Secundus, Tertius, _and _Zerum_ are actually Latin for numbers. Specifically primus is one, secundus is two, and tertius is three. Zerum is considered zero—although it's a recently modern addition as the concept of zero didn't exist back in those days and is in fact, an _**Arabic**_ invention in case you weren't aware of it.

For you nitpickers (like me!) who are wondering about those Iron Man Mod Numbers that I was throwing out during Iron Man 2.0's musings—I personally view Marvel's numbering system for the Iron Man Armors to be crap. Basically, they just number each Armor as when they appear chronologically in the comics—and this refers that certain armors—like the Space Armor, the Stealth Armor, or even the Hydro Armor as being part of the same numbering sequence of his regular suits! I distinctly remember during the first Space Armor comic book—Tony had several experimental sets of armor available and chose one of them which was later named Armor Model V (#5).

But for the purposes of _Industrial Revolution_, I bowed to Marvel's numbering convention and decided to go along with it—since I felt that I might confuse other fans if I arbitrarily instituted by own numbering system. Ah well…

**MODEL I (1):** _The first clunky armor model built by Tony Stark out of scavenged bits and pieces that he found while imprisoned by Wong Chu. This is the grey one that looks like a walking refrigerator._

**MODEL II (2):** _The upgraded deluxe version of the prototype; looks almost identical to the first only for the pure gold exterior. And he's wearing a kilt._

**MODEL IV (4):** _This is the classic red & gold armor used by Tony (and Marvel) from the late 1960s to about 1985. This suit saw service against some of Tony Stark's greatest battles from the "DoomQuest", the "Demon in the Bottle" saga, and his downward spiral against Obadiah Stane._

**MODEL XXV (25):** _The Pre-Extremis model. I believe this model was the one being used as the predecessor for the later suit he wore for the Extremis storyline done by Warren Ellis and Adi Granov. It seems to resemble it at least. This was the suit that Tony was using during his brief stint as the Secretary of Defense._

**MODEL XXIIX (28):** _The "Hypervelocity" model created by the great Adam Warren which is the armor that our hero, Iron Man 2.0 was 'born' in. This was an experimental model that Tony Stark was working on that and afterwards, he apparently reverted back to Model XXV until Extremis._

**MODEL XXIX (29):** _The Extremis Model. This was the suit that Tony wore during the whole Civil War saga, the Initiative, World War Hulk, and even the Secret Invasion._

That whole 37.1 percent of voters, is an actual figure from the 2006 National Voter Turnout which was the last vote done when the comic was printed.

For some reason, I have noticed that I have been using a whole lotta quotes during the writing of this chapter so I felt obligated to name them. First off—the one used by Steve Rogers (Captain America) was an actual scene that I typed out from the _Civil War: The Confession_ comic. So I'm not sure if I can take credit for that—but for those of who curious (like I was), the actual quote, _"Man is the only animal,"_ was originally said by Mark Twain.

Even the title of this chapter, _"Give me liberty, or give me deletion!"_ is a paraphrase from the famous orator Patrick Henry to whom this famous quote of _"Give me liberty, or give me death!" _is attributed.

William Faulkner and Ben Franklin bits are fairly self-explanatory.

I actually stole that _"People should not be afraid of their governments. Governments should be afraid of their people,"_ from Hugo Weaving's character of V from the _"V for Vendetta"_ movie; which I thought was such a great line. Of course, I later learned that quote was adapted from Thomas Jefferson. The great patriot and President's original quote was: _"When the people fear their government, there is tyranny; when the government fears the people, there is liberty."_

"_Memento mori"_ is a Latin phrase which translates roughly as _"Remember your mortality," _or perhaps even more simply,_ "Remember you must die,"_ which I thought was an appropriate phrase for a self-destruction sequence.


End file.
